Caught in Fate's Dance
by Ilandere Okami
Summary: He came just to do his job, not realizing that the unhackable computer he was setting up was for such a nefarious program as the Company's, and that his client would be a friend he'd left twenty years ago, one that he had never thought he'd see again, one that hoped would never see HIM again. AU MattxMello, drama, thriller, eating disorders
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I know, I really shouldn't be starting a new fanfiction when I still have five others to work on. However, I don't think I'll be touching Wo-Man any time soon, Imperfection has a few chapters written I just haven't had the inspiration to type up, and I'm somehow stuck in a writer's block for Death Machine. Don't ask about Ghost of Days Gone By, my South Park fanfic. Think of it as a drabble, if you will.**

**As for what got me inspired for this, weeeell…I actually have been in serious need of good MattxMello fanfiction, but can't seem to find any good new ones that aren't already 50,000 words or whatever. I don't think I've written a full-length MattxMello story yet, so this shall be fun…Oh, and, um…I actually got inspired for this by the movie **_**13 Going on 30**_**, but this story is truly my own. There's no magic wishing dust or going forward/backward in time involved for the characters themselves. There will be flashbacks, though. Everything will remain realistic, as well. Oh, and this was also partially inspired by a book I'm reading right now…**

**This takes place in an AU universe and Mello shall not be part of the Mafia or part of a fashion magazine, FYI. I will try to use as many DN characters as possible only because I feel like it. I'll try to stay true to their characters, however.**

**Warning: Swearing is really it. This is going to remain rated T partially 'cause I don't feel like writing any lemons and partially 'cause I think it fits better for this story. If I decide to make it rated M, I'll warn you and change the rating. Oh, and name reveals, if you couldn't tell by the summary…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters. I do not own **_**13 Going on 30**_**, either. I do own some of the ideas in this story, though!**

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_**Caught in Fate's Dance**_

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Chapter 1 - Mello

I stormed into the head's office, the door banging off the wall and almost back into my face if I hadn't strutted towards the desk, arms swinging by my sides in help to propel me forward. "Lawliet!" I screeched and slammed on his desk with two open palms.

The dark-haired man calmly looked up at me from where he was delicately placing encrypted papers through the shredder. His bowtie was askew and his pantsuit was its usual unironed self. He certainly didn't get his job based on his interview skills. No, he got it because of his brains, the best brains in the country, possibly the world. Should be the world, with what he was handling every day.

I, on the other hand, worked my way up with my social skills and well as my intelligence. My parents were wealthy enough to send me to the top colleges and graduate schools after I attended one of the country's best all-boys boarding schools. I'd made friends with soon-to-be powerful people in those years and it was paying off rather well, despite my loathing of all human kind, including those so-called "friends."

"Mr. Keehl," Lawliet finally began, "You know I'd prefer it if you knocked first."

Eyes bugging out, I yelled back, "I've no time for knocking! I need that damn technician here right now! I hate computers; I hate passwords; I hate new computers that need new passwords…" I began to ramble as my boss began to gently lead me out the door and down the hall back to my own office. I didn't need this. I really didn't. I hated my office. It was too compact, claustrophobic. I hated tight, boxed-in spaces. I'd rather be in the bleached-white labs surrounded by my test tubes and my experiments. But no, I had to wait for a technician to mess with a new computer after my old one…mysteriously broke…

They can't prove it was my boot that went through that monitor.

As deadly calm as always, Lawliet said, "Calm down, Mr. Keehl. He's only a few minutes late. He probably didn't think of adding in the extra time it takes to get through security here." My breathing slowed slightly, but my face was still contorted in rage and my body refused to relax. "Ah, here he is, waiting outside your door. See, if Mr. Keehl hadn't stormed into my office like that, he could've already begun and not wasted any time…"

"Shut it," I hissed, pulling out of his grasp and stomping towards the tech person waiting patiently at my door, looking almost amused at my frustration.

"You've got quite a bit of security here," he stated, an almost-smile beginning to form on his face, but unable to reach his eyes. I didn't care.

"You're late," was all I said before unlocking my office and sauntering inside.

He looked around, taking in what little things I had around my office. There were no pictures of families like the other workers here, no vacation souvenirs. Just a few world maps and generic cell diagrams and models. But the desk and chair were beautiful and expensive, as was the brand new computer the Company bought me. "Nice digs," he said in appreciation.

"I'm not paying you to check out my office," I replied tersely. "I'm paying you to set up my new computer."

"What happened to your old one?" he asked, genuinely curious. He looked at me then, eyes digging into mine, almost begging for an answer, probably because he didn't want any harm to have come to his precious technology.

"None of your business."

There was something in his eyes, something familiar. They shown green through his glasses and contrasted his bright red hair. The curiosity was something only a child would have, unneeded and unwanted in the workplace. He was probably new to his job. Idiot. I didn't care if I'd ever seen him before or again, I just wanted him in and out as quickly as possible so I could go back to my lab.

He slapped his forehead as if punishing himself. "Sorry!" he cried. "I know that was too personal, not profession at all! To tell you the truth, this is my first call. Just moved here recently and got this job. After a bit of training, here I am! Don't worry, I know better than to ask you what you're going to use your new computer for or what you do for a living. And I'm already really experienced in this field, really."

He talked too much.

"So, what exactly would you like me to do?" Like he really didn't know…

I stared at the man for a moment before looking back at my desk. "You need to set up these computers with as much software as you can; I don't want anybody to be able to access the files."

He replied, "Yes, Mr. Keehl," before beginning his job. I didn't remember ever telling him my name, and he wasn't supposed to know his clients' names, according to his employer. That's when it hit me, coming at me from a faint trace of light and turning into a roaring train. He'd lost a lot of baby fat, stopped wearing his dorky goggles, and seemed to have forgotten how to smile, but it was definitely my old Matt.

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_Approximately twenty years previously_

Laughter filled the basement as my best friend watched me crash my virtual car yet again. "Shut up!" I cried, shoving him into the couch's armrest. He only laughed harder before I stole his controller, forcing his own car to crash. "Aw, no fair!" he whined, but I wouldn't have it and instead tackled him.

He started to laugh again as we began to wrestle, somehow falling to the floor. By this point, my anger had subsided slightly and I had begun to laugh as well.

This was just a typical day for us. Matt would hang at my house after school while his foster parents were either at work or arguing with each other to the point of violence. At least, I bet they got violent. They never harmed Matt, though. He was safe. Parents come together for the weirdest of things, like raising a child.

We would usually do our measly amount of homework, I'd give him some of the homework my private tutor gave me, he'd illegally download a video game somehow, and we'd play to our hearts' content the violent games my parents would rather I avoid. I really sucked at the video games, though…But the plotlines were always so interesting!

It was a nice life. Though I couldn't really remember how we became friends, I had a feeling it had something to do with my defending him when he was bullied years before then. Now, we were preteens and didn't really care about beginnings or ends. It was all about the present. And in the present, we were best friends, always had each other's backs, and were utterly inseparable.

That is, until Matt's weight pinned me down that day. He often won our wrestling matches only because of his sheer mass. He was chubby, but he only said it was baby fat and he would grow out of it soon. That's what the school nurse said to him, at least, when he went to her to get an ice pack after another round of bullying. I wasn't with him all the time; I couldn't stop them all. But if the people were caught, they would have to deal with me, and many had learned that lesson the hard way…

He looked down on me through his orange-tinted goggles. He always wore them, though I could never figure out why. He said he liked the view of the world in orange, and I figured it had something to do with his constant gaming and computer staring. But I wondered at that very moment if it was because they shielded his soul from the world. One of the books I'd been reading in my spare time said that the eyes are the window to the soul, after all…

So, I never knew the emotions playing through his head as he leaned down, not breaking his eye contact with me. His face was flushed, as was mine, but I just thought that was from our physical playing, not anything else. Our lips connected in the briefest of touches. His mouth was soft and warm and it felt…good. That's the only word I could think of to describe that moment, slightly crushed under his weight with his soft lips and curious eyes staring back at me…

And then my brain caught up with my body and I started struggling, screaming, "Get off! Get off, you lardass!" It was a word I'd heard on the television late at night, when my parents thought I was asleep. It sounded fitting in the situation, though I knew he wasn't actually that fat, just compared to my skinny self.

He quickly scrambled off of me and landed on his butt on the floor. I screamed some more, standing and running to the opposite wall. I could never remember what I said after that, but I knew it was something along the lines of "Get out of my house" and "I never want to see you again, you homo." I think I probably put in a few slurs as well, but I bet I blocked that out.

I grew up knowing that gay people were an abomination. They were not meant to be together and they served no purpose in the grander scheme of things. Sure, they can claim they love each other, but in the end, you know they're only doing that because no woman would ever want an effeminate, unmanly "man" like them. They're disgusting, only trying to get attention or something.

I couldn't possibly associate with a gay person, myself. And my parents would positively murder the two of us if they ever found out.

In the years since that day, my views softened and matured. I eventually learned through the many classes I took in college about genetics, biology, and psychology that it was actually natural to be born homosexual. It was still gross and I wouldn't associate myself with one, but…that was _my _choice.

Matt had left my house that day almost in tears. I knew better than to spread any rumors about him, but I never saw him at school after that. I hoped for a while, though I tried to stifle any thoughts of him, that he didn't think that I would do something like turn the whole school against him more or something. He was still my best friend at heart, even if I could never stand being near him again. I missed his company for a while, too, and my parents wondered what had happened to us, but I refused to tell them anything.

A few weeks after our fight—if one can call it a fight—I finally went to his house to talk with him. He was missing a lot of school and I was worried that he wouldn't be able to catch up. I knew better than to talk with him again if I was trying to distance myself from him, but I just did it on pure impulse, a spur-of-the-moment decision after school.

His foster mother answered the door in tears, but got angry when she saw me. When I asked if I could speak to Matt, she'd told me that he had called his social worker and was taken out of his foster home, claiming it wasn't a good environment for a young child. After that, her husband had finally left her and they were getting a divorce. She blamed it on me for hurting Matt so much and I hightailed it out of there before she threw something at me.

Somewhere deep in my heart, I realized I couldn't continue worrying about my old best friend. He was gone and I wasn't going to see him again, what I wished for all along. I deluded myself into thinking this was a good thing, that I didn't really need friends if I wanted to get ahead and succeed in life. I didn't need relationships, no girlfriend or anything. A competitive all-boys school was welcomed in the end, though by then Matt had long since been forgotten to the dark depths of my hollow heart, if only to completely numb me from the pain.

Years later, as I began my career, and he was little more than a stranger's face I had seen in passing while walking the streets of one of the many cities I'd lived in over the years. He was gone.

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**Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Caught in Fate's Dance. The title, btw, comes from something in the next chapter. I have a feeling I'm really going to enjoy writing this story. And as hinted, yes, Mello is not wearing his usual leather, but a suit. I guarantee that he'll wear leather eventually, but I'm not giving anything away. I'm also not totally giving away his job just yet. It's meant to be obscure for a reason, though our little genius Matty might just figure it out…**

**Next chapter will be from Matt's POV as he sees Mello for the first time in twenty years. However, his life has been completely different…((This is probably the first fanfic ever where Matty was chubby as a kid. It really seems fitting for a gamer, though…))**

**Please review if you could! I love getting them and they inspire me like no other. If you have any suggestions, all are welcomed and you never know if one will wind up in the story. If you have constructive criticism, I'd love it as well!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I had decided the story wouldn't be fair from only Mello's POV, so they'll be switching off. Usually, they will not recall the same events from different perspectives as that bores me to tears. If they do have to go over the same events for whatever reasons, the second one will gloss over a lot of the dialogue and such to speed things along, or the first might, depending on who thinks the dialogue is more important. This is one of those times. But you will also gain a shitton more information, including clues as to Mello's job, etc. and more!**

**I will also like to say that I'm still forming most of the plot for the story, but the basic plot is there. This will not just be a love story between the two men—yes, it's romance, as the genre says—but a really cool story in itself. A thriller, if you will. It has really gained a lot of story of its own that sets it apart from its original inspiration. That is a good thing, trust me!**

**Warnings: Again, only name dropping and swearing, though Mello curses and Matty doesn't seem to unless really provoked. Oh, and Matt might curse religious people. I mean nothing by it; a character is saying it. I don't believe half the things I have my characters say, and you should know that by now. Anyway, everyone is entitled to their own beliefs.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. I own this story idea.**

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Chapter 2 – Matt

When I first pulled up to the Company building, I thought I had followed my boss's directions incorrectly. He wasn't a native English speaker, after all. But there weren't too many humongous, top secret facilities in the middle of nowhere, like this one.

There was no address, but he had described the structure and hinted at some security, so I knew I had to be in the right place. I didn't expect the armed guards at the large gated entrance that was topped with barbed wire, but I didn't really know what to expect. I was only told the precise directions of how to get here, what I was supposed to say, and to whom, though no names were given, as per the regulations of my company, TCS.

The thought that this was one huge joke ran through my mind. I was new to the country, having just been transferred here from my old desk job. A promotion, they called it. Bullshit. This was my first client, so it could easily be a joke. I just hoped, if this was a hoax set up by my new coworkers, that the guns the guards had in plain sight were not real.

One of them stalked to my car and I couldn't help but compare his movements to those of some of the video game characters I killed, who tried to show off their power and muscle and did a fantastic job at intimidating. But I didn't have a gun on me, so I had a strong feeling I wouldn't be doing any killing today—at least, not without a guarantee that my one life would be taken without any redo. I nervously rolled down my window.

"Who are you? What is your purpose?" the guard asked curtly, his accent thick. He could probably tell I was American by my license plate, my car being one of my few precious possessions I couldn't leave behind—my games, consoles, and computers being the others.

I answered with my rehearsed words, "I am from TCS. I am here to work on a new computer." I handed him my company ID.

The guard stared at me curiously, not believing me, before calling out to one of his buddies in their native tongue—a tongue-twister-like language I was still only beginning to learn. The other shrugged and looked at my ID before giving some sort of answer. My guard looked at me again and said in halted English, "You may enter."

I was handed back my ID and was able to roll up my window with a sigh of relief. I proceeded through the slowly opening gates, letting my air conditioning cool off my sweating body before knowing I would need to exit my car again. Just my window down had almost killed me. Well, first level of entry won. Onto level two.

There seemed to be no parking lot or even any spaces, so I pulled up close to the building and parked anyway, hoping I wouldn't be towed. There weren't even any meters and I felt good I didn't have to pay for parking for once. It was apparently not a company expense and came from my own pocket when I parked at the office building. Every day.

As I glanced around, I had a feeling there was some secret underground parking for employees. Guests were obviously not very welcomed.

I tentatively made my way across the dirt road to the intimidating front entrance, my backpack feeling like a lead weight in the heat. One glance at my watch told me I was just a little early, which was pretty good for me. One look into the building and I knew I was going to be more than a little late.

I went through so many levels of security, I lost count. They checked my license and my company ID numerous times, took fingerprint and retina scans, weighed my backpack and took everything I had in it out to examine further. At least it wasn't organized to begin with. My bag and I went through multiple X-rays and I hoped to god I didn't become sterile because of that. With all the pat-downs and measurements taken, I felt like I was both at an airport and my old doctor's office. Finally, after handing me a nice laminated ID I had to clip to my shirt collar, I was led to my destination, an office on the third floor. We had to walk up stairs and man was it painful. Just because I wasn't as fat as I once was didn't mean I was in shape. Far from it, in fact. Hello, computer nerd and gamer!

I was left alone, though I knew cameras were watching my every move. I knocked on the door; there was no answer. So, I waited outside the office door. It was really awkward, just standing there in the hallway, worrying if some random person would walk by and question my very existence.

After what seemed like an hour, though my digital watch said it was only three minutes, I heard voices around the corner. There was something about computers and a techie in the conversation, as well as lateness, so I knew it had to be my client and someone else. As the two men rounded the corner, I took in a very riled up blond whose long hair seemed utterly inappropriate in an office situation like this and a black-haired man who seemed to have slept in his suit…if the bags under his eyes hadn't given away that he had not slept in days, possibly weeks.

I couldn't hear anything the latter said, but he left the blond with me as soon as they got close enough. As I took in the blond, something inside me jolted. He was beyond familiar. It was like I had never left.

All I could think of to say was, "You've got quite a bit of security here." Yeah, that was such a great observation, Captain Obvious.

He angrily led me into his office. It definitely reflected his character—neat, orderly, clean, almost harsh so, nothing personal on display, and with a touch of wealth showing in the nice desk and chair. I had no idea what kind of company this was or why it had to be so secretive, but I had a feeling it had something to do with biology. There were diagrams and 3D models of cells—some from animals, others from plants, and a few I couldn't recognize. Seemed like something he would do, seeing as he always did love science.

What confused me were the world maps he had as well. He never really liked social studies or geography. But then again, a lot could have changed over the years.

Seeing him again after all this time caught me off guard, especially since it seemed beyond coincidental and more like fate was playing a cruel joke. Ah, so it wasn't my coworkers, but fate playing a joke on me, huh? Seeing as I could never forget him, his feminine ways that just screamed gay, though he was probably only metrosexual, his angry face, his icy eyes…he was just an adult version of his old self. I would be utterly stunned if he remembered me.

I was so nervous, I started rambling, saying and asking way too much than what was appropriate—even in a normal social situation, not that I had any social skills to begin with.

And that's when it slipped out. I was trying to get back into professional mode, trying to remember my job and how to act at my job. So, I answered professionally. "Yes, Mr. Keehl." Just not my job's kid of professional.

But, oh, the recognition that dawned on his face as I turned away revealed so much. He finally remembered me. Oh, Mello, you truly hadn't changed a bit.

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_Approximately twenty years previously_

Mello's basement was always my safe haven. I practically lived at his house anyway, but that basement was my real home. And it wasn't just because of the multiple gaming systems, infinite amount of games—purchased and pirated—computer that was always the newest model, and all the other amazing technological things. It was because Mello was always there, next to me on the couch, behind me as he watched me on his computer, or even off in the corner at the desk he had his parents put down there just so he could work while I played.

His presence was just a constant in that basement. At school, we weren't always together. At my house…he wasn't very welcomed. My parents sort of hated how great his life was. They couldn't keep any stable jobs, couldn't have a kid on their own, and had been emotionally abused by a few of their past foster kids.

I was their last chance. If I turned out an okay child, they could consider themselves good parents. If not…they were already on the verge of divorce. I would have hated to see that actually happen, though.

But that's why I loved Mello's basement. There was no connection to the outside world, the one of pain and suffering. The only pain and suffering was on a two-dimensional screen, a plate of glass separating "us" from "them" instead of thin wood walls, where I'm as much a "them" as any other.

That's also why I wore my goggles—another defense mechanism against seeing reality. They tinted the world a shade of happy orange—nothing negative about the sun, right?

Another reason for my goggles emerged that day, though. Not only did they block reality for me, but they blocked my emotions from others. Mello would probably never know why I had acted the way I did that day.

_I_ don't even know how it happened. One minute, we were playing a video game; the next, I was sitting atop him on the floor. We'd wrestled many times before, nothing different. He was actually the better wrestler because he was physically fit, unlike me. But he was also very small compared to me and he always lost if I was able to get on top of him. He always got pissed if I won, but that's just because he needed to win at everything. He never got mad at me for my weight and because of that, I never really noticed it when around him. The school nurse said it was all just baby fat and I would grow into it, now that I was beginning puberty.

After that day…that's when I started caring.

I had used my weight against him, holding him down, as I leaned down and kissed him on the lips. At the moment and for days, weeks, _months_ afterward, I had no idea why. Eventually I figured it out, though: I was in love with him. I wanted to be with him always because he actually cared about me and made me feel…special…and yet normal, not someone to outcast. And for some reason, those feelings never went away, even though I despised him and I figured he would easily forget about me.

See, I kissed him full on the lips. We were young, inexperienced, and so it was short and odd, but felt…magical. I hate using that word because I know there is really no such thing as magic. But I felt some sort of connection that for that one second meant that he would be there for me to feel forever, would protect me forever.

Boy, was I wrong.

I think being called a lardass when you're already concerned about your weight by the one you thought didn't care at all is probably the worst that could happen…That, and being called a fag, a homo, among other colorful words that ultimately got me kicked out of his house.

He said he never wanted to see me again.

I can still remember his face throughout that entire exchange. He liked the kiss, I know it. And that's why he reacted the way he did. God damn religious parents, drilling lies into their poor son's head. So, he reacted out of shock and fear. The fear and anger on his face…oh, man…it was painful to watch.

But, I followed his wishes. I left.

I didn't want to stay in the same town as him, so I decided to do the easiest thing to move—I called my social worker, the one who had been working on my case for most of my life, since I was first taken away from my mother. Just time for another foster family, nothing new. The only difference was that whatever community I moved to wouldn't have Mello in it. I knew I hurt my foster parents; I ruined their lives for good. I just couldn't face my best friend ever again…and I couldn't tell anyone that. But I think my foster mother picked up on it somehow, like all good mothers should.

I hated myself for hurting Mello like that, for making him doubt himself. I hated myself for being unwanted by him. No, I never wanted to be a girl; I was happy in my own body…Well, partially. I never thought I would see him again, so I knew I wasn't doing it for him. I was doing it for myself, I constantly told myself. All the times I went days without eating and puked up anything that did make it to my stomach, and the hours spent in the gym instead of in front of the television or computer…I swear they were for _me_, for _my_ health, for _my_ self-image.

They had nothing to do with my desire, no matter how buried inside me it was, to see Mello again.

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**Author's Note: I actually didn't make up a lot of those security measures. I know somebody who's family member ((not saying who in any way, shape, or form)) who had governmental access to secret-ish stuff as an internship. The person used a backpack every day and it was weighed coming in and out of the place the person worked so as to make sure nothing was stolen or anything. A lie detector was one of the ways the person was interviewed for the internship. It sounded both scary and awesome. But this is actually proof that I'm trying to write what I know as much as possible. I'm drawing from prior knowledge and trying not to make things up. I've sorta gotten in trouble with that before. But I also want to keep things interesting, so...**

**Now, as for the difference in Matt and Mello's chapters...You can pretty much tell that Mello is a lot more blunt and less in-touch with his feelings. Matt rambles, but I did that on purpose. His character in this is one who rambles, aloud and in his head.**

**For future chapters, expect more in the present time instead of in flashback. But there will be flashbacks randomly from now on, about how they grew up without each other and the effects that had. You only had glimpses so far—of how Mello cut himself off from any other relationships and Matt got an eating disorder. And yes, men can have eating disorders too. In America, they're less common than women/don't admit them as much. And that is also why he mentions his weight to the point of okay, we get it, you're chubby.**

**So, I hope you've enjoyed the introduction into this very odd story. I hope you enjoy the rest too! And review if you could be so kind. They really do inspire me so much...**

**PS: Physics doesn't exist. It's all magic.  
((Saying that is the easiest way to piss of my bf, btw. He's an engineer...XD))**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I know it took a while to get this new chapter written. I wrote it all during school and have only recently had time to actually write it during class. See, my classes were reviewing for finals for a week, and well…I never study or review, just pay slight attention to what the class is saying. And I still get A's, WTF? XD No, that's not gloating. My boyfriend getting a perfect ACT is gloating. .**

**On another note, people are freaking because it seems like the site is finally cracking down and deleting stories. I believe they are trying to censor us. It's what the government is trying to do and in all honesty it's against our first amendment right. And seeing as the makers of this site are American ((right? I don't actually know…)) it's an American site and therefore deleting stories like this is censorship! Also, Misa is a Bitch got deleted a few weeks ago. It had swearing in the title and summary, so…I guess I can understand that. If any of my other stories get deleted here that I actually care about ((my most popular, basically)), I'll start posting them on my deviantART, miajoie. Possibly on adultfanfiction as well, on which my name is Mitsuki.**

**ONTO THIS STORY! This chapter is Mello's and picks up right where we left off. At the end, you'll get some plot development. You'll also meet some new characters, so that'll be fun. I will warn you guys, though; I don't have too much of the storyline figured out, just the overarching plot of the entire story. If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them!**

**Warning: Just a few swears. And info overload at times, I guess. Every time I introduce a new character, be prepared for a bit of info overload.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or its characters. I do own this plot.**

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Chapter 3 – Mello

My only thought for a few moments was to make sure to get Matt out of my office. He…he was a liability, that was it. He knew me, but he wasn't supposed to, not at all.

I fought back the urge to kick him out right then, but knew that was a bad idea. Instead, I let him work, watching over his every move. He had pulled out numerous gadgets and cords from his backpack and was plugging them into each other and into my computer in places I didn't even know had holes. Technology had never been my thing, though, so I don't think I would have known anyway.

He worked quickly and silently, only asking me a few questions about files he had to transfer, security measures, and the like. He was trying to act professional, but I could read him as easily as if he had only just left.

Every time he had to speak was an ordeal for him, as if he didn't want to. He strained to act cordial, but I knew all he wanted was to bring up the past. Ask if I remembered our last day together, question if I had changed at all. My answers…would be limited, barely giving insight into my life…if he had asked to begin with.

Even if he wanted to—though, with the way I left it, I doubted it—I could not be his friend again. That's what it all came down to. All he was in my world was a techie and a liability. Nothing more. And he could never be any more.

As the hours passed, I realized I wouldn't be going to the lab today. I was used to standing for hours on end when working normally, so it was not too hard to continually stand behind Matt as he sat in my comfy office chair. I often got antsy sitting there unless I was already on edge. But I became antsy nevertheless, just standing there. My eyes grew tired and my mind began to wander…

His fingers tapping away on my keyboard and hooking up and plugging in cords and devices were almost skeletal. They were mesmerizing to watch. Flashes of old, wispy memories passed through my mind, of pudgy fingers going through the same motions, just simplified considerably. They almost seemed…adorable compared to the thin appendages now.

A thought slipped through my head of how the perpetually chubby kid had lost all his weight to the point of having such fingers. I couldn't see his face as it was turned away from me, but it made me wonder. I did recall his lips looking thinner. But I knew better than to think of them. I immediately began reading one of my cell posters.

The information on a rare type of bacteria found in the heart of the Amazon rainforest calmed my mind until another sudden movement from the redhead at my desk caught my eye. He'd only switched cords and it meant nothing to me, but it still sent my vision shooting straight towards him again.

And yet…watching him was so dull. The knowledge that his monotonous work was so vitally important scared me, though. He was making sure nobody could access information that could lead to such horrible ends…and he had no idea. He could not know what he was protecting. He was both saving his life and ensuring his eventual death.

But I didn't care. I couldn't care. He wasn't my problem. I cared about my life and my life only. What was the point of worrying about another's fate when he'll just leave in the end anyway? It wasn't like our paths will cross ever again.

"Just a few more minutes," he said, jolting me slightly. "Then I'll show you how to access your files and programs." Oh, wonderful; he'll be spending more time with me.

His "few more minutes" turned into another half hour. Finally, he turned around to see me standing right behind him, arms crossed, and a sour look on my face. "Oh," he called out in shock, sounding so innocent. "I'm going to show you how to—"

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it," I interrupted.

"Yes, Mr.—Sir." Nice cover-up. Almost messed up again, did we?

He proceeded to show me the locations of files, programs, and software. He gave me various passwords and identification procedures and eventually showed me a very…special program. As he began to explain it, his eyes lit up behind his glasses and I couldn't help but be a little frightened.

"I-it's brand new, still experimental. But it needs some, uh, field testing…" he began.

I snorted. "So, what, I'm a guinea pig?"

"No!" he objected. I couldn't help but crack a smile, he was so flustered. "I _know_ it works, perfectly at that—"

I sighed, "Okay, enough excuses. Thank you for the gift, now what is it?" My voice dripped sarcasm.

A program that lets me hack anyone on my own network, unless they have Matt-level protection? Now, what would I like to do with that…? The possibilities were endless, a marvelous opportunity. I wouldn't steal anyone's _work_, but extra info was always…appreciated.

Nevertheless, a thought quickly wiggles its way into my head. Was this a peace-offering? By giving me such amazing technology, no doubt made by his own hands, was he trying to say he forgave me? But then, I realized it didn't matter. I could not forgive him, nor would I. He was just my techie now, nothing more. There could be no peace offering when one side wasn't even at war.

I still thanked him begrudgingly—for the extra program as well as the actual service. No use upsetting the most trusted techie company. I then called security to lead him out once more. At that point, he finally stood from my chair and waited by the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly. He was still nervous. I remained standing so as to continue my menacing look. He refused to meet my eyes, seemingly defeated.

A few minutes later, a guard arrived at my door, three knocks preceding him. I called him in, explained who the redheaded nerd was, and that he needed someone to take him to his car. Matt took a deep, calming breath, ad followed the guard.

Once they were gone, I walked around my desk to the small window. The blinds were always drawn, as I didn't much like sunlight. I pulled a few down and noticed it was already dusk, but the few lamps on the grounds lit up a single car near the building entrance. Red sports car, are you serious? He got a car based off a video game, I knew it.

I shook my head and went back to my desk, pulling my chair back out and slumping into it. I didn't realize how tired I was until I sat down, my feet finally letting me know they were done for the day. My muscles must have been tensed for too long. I sighted, finally relaxed, and sunk into the soft, leather chair. The seat was still warm from Matt, and it sort of spooked me. I wasn't used to warmth—from a chair, from another body…

My hands absentmindedly stroked the arms of the chair, the smooth leather calming me from the day. While the rest of my office seemed impersonal, clean, the arms of that chair were worn and familiar. After a particularly hard day—be it from a failed experiment or a successful one—I would relax in my chair and stroke the arms near where my hands rested. The leather just…worked. Calmed me.

When I finally decided it was time to go home, I realized it was very late. Few people would be around, only those still in the labs, working on important experiments they couldn't leave overnight. I heaved myself out of my chair and grabbed my briefcase—more of a prop, since we were forbidden from bringing anything home. It had generic spreadsheets and the like for a desk job, just to appear normal in case it was stolen or searched for whatever reason. Sometimes, I laughed at the security measures the Company took. And then I would remember the reasons why the measures were in place. They were for my own safety, too.

I stalked out of my office, taking in what a waste of a day I had just had. After slamming and double locking my door (though it automatically locks when closed), I stomped towards the stairs. The last thing I wanted was to see another person. Lucky me, they should all be in the basement labs besides the nightshift security.

Except, of course, if they were leaving at the same time as I was. Like Light Yagami. Craptastic. Mr. Perfect enjoyed making sure everyone around him felt inferior—to his looks, his brains, his social skills. He especially liked torturing Lawliet. It was sort of weird, like a rivalry between the two. And it was—the Company higher-ups were contemplating hiring Yagami full-time. At the moment, the bastard was just using our space and technology, coming from another organization, which was running experiments as well…just not as…impactful as ours.

He would gladly join the Company, with better pay and more recognition in the field. The only problem was that he would, in essence, be taking Lawliet's job. And I couldn't stand that prick getting rid of my boss. Or becoming mine.

We met up at the door to the stairwell. As I slid my ID through the lock and scanned my fingerprints, he tried to start up a conversation. "Good evening, Mr. Keehl."

"'Evening," I replied, putting on the most pleasant face I could muster under the present circumstances.

He smiled and followed my hurried steps down the stairs. "Staying late, I see. Messing around on your new computer?"

Without turning around, I snapped, "How do you know about that?"

His chuckle echoed in the stairwell. He stated with smugness, "L told me." He was trying to shove in my face his closeness with my boss, that they were on first name basis and he could get insider information through him. But everyone with half a brain knew that they were only so friendly, so close, to mask their hatred and rivalry.

"Of course," I responded with false sweetness.

I was about to barrel down the last flight of stairs when he called out, "Hey, where're you going? I wanted to ask you something!"

I took a deep breath and slowed down, so he could catch up and walk next to me. "What?" I hissed.

"Someone's in a bad mood," he sung before flinging his arm around my shoulders. Did he not get the concept of personal space? And the fact that people in bad moods don't want to be around overly cheery brownnosers? "Anyway," he began on a more serious note, "a few of us are going out drinking Friday night after we get off. You in?"

I contemplated the situation. On one hand, I hated him. On the other hand, I hated everyone else. Then again, if he became my boss someday—not gonna happen, Lawliet is still better—I needed to be on his good side so I could get a promotion…and not have him as my boss anymore…if that ever happened…which it wouldn't. "Okay, fine," he gave in.

Maybe I could get out of it by having to stay late in the labs…I really didn't want to drink. Alcohol was so stupid, taking away inhibitions that were there for a reason.

"Great!" he cried as he pushed open the door to the ground floor. He quickly gave me details on what time we were meeting and where the club was before heading off. "Oh!" He was going towards the east garage, but stopped and turned back around. With an evil glint in his eyes, he said, "Don't invite L." And with that smirk, he turned away and walked through the door to the garage.

I shook my head, not understanding him, but continued on my way to the north garage. My car was the last one there in the dim, underground light. At the exit, I stopped and had a routine fingerprint and retina scan before my car was lifted above onto actual round. I floored it and was heading home before I knew it. Hopefully, tomorrow I could spend the entire day alone with my cultures and biohazard suit.

* * *

**Author's Note: I think that's enough describing security measures…**

**How do you guys like Light? I'm trying to make him seem like a douche with a hidden agenda. He can seem all happy-go-lucky one minute and evil the next, probably because the original Light was just as bipolar…XD**

**I really don't mean to focus so much on Matty's weight, but it played a pretty big subconscious role in both their lives, so Mello is obviously gonna notice **_**something**_** if he suddenly looks slightly anorexic! I won't make a big deal out of it all the time, promise. Some of Matt's chapters will have parts dedicated to it only because it still is important. Just as important as Mello ranting about how he hates people, relationships, and the like.**

**Also, I'm not going to give away any other pairings, but there are more. And plenty more characters to bring in as well. XP**

**Please review if you enjoyed the chapter! And if you didn't, please review as well with why you didn't and any tips if you have them! Thank you so much! See you next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: Sorry for the immense delay. Just didn't have inspiration, I guess…*sigh***

**I have gone back to winging the chapters. I had no idea what I was writing while I was writing, just that it was from Matty's POV. New characters are introduced. I created them around my story's needs, so please don't get upset if they're OOC. They were originally nameless…and then I decided to throw in some names. Sooo…yeah.**

**Warnings: **_Italicized_** dialogue is the native tongue of the country. No, you will never know the name of the country, for actually various reasons. Also, there is some swearing…and some not-so-pleasant images dealing with eating disorders.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. If I did, Matt would have a bigger part. I do own this plot, however.**

* * *

Chapter 4

My apartment was on the second floor of an old building that used to house two families—one on either floor. It was converted into an apartment building when the country—this city especially—began to Westernize, gain bigger businesses, you understand. Obviously, the families lived pretty modestly, since they had many children and often had extended family in the same home. Me, on the other hand? Oh, I really found this apartment a wondrously spacious accommodation. If I had been able to scout a place out first before I moved here, instead of letting TCS reps find me one, it probably would have been smaller.

Still, they paid for it, and I didn't have to pay rent, so who's complaining?

There was a young couple that took up the other half of this floor and a few tenets downstairs as well. The couple was pretty nice, and the husband, Raye, was helping me learn the native language so I can, you know, live in this city. Buy food, clothes, get directions…The wife, Naomi, however, acted very meek when joining her husband and me. I had encountered her on a few occasions alone, though she was usually out with friends or shopping or visiting her parents. And, let me tell you, that quiet, shy girl was really just an act. Her husband agreed—though hearing about their bedroom exploits was where I drew the line. I didn't have the heart to tell either of them that I wasn't not into…that sort of thing. Especially when Naomi came onto me.

Don't worry, I refused to actually do anything with her, and she knew better than to go further than flirting with me. Showing a little leg, brushing a breast against me, it was all pretty harmless. And Raye said that she had done that with the previous tenets in my apartment. One of whom was female, might I add.

Now, that wife was alone in her apartment when I came home. She heard me coming up the stairs and walked out, wondering if I was her husband.

"_Home late, yeah?_" she asked slowly. She knew I was trying to learn their language and she spoke slowly so I could keep up and learn.

I smiled at her and replied, "_First actual job. It was a hard one._" She smiled and followed me into my apartment after I unlocked the door. One lock, that was it. It felt like such a relief, almost calming.

She sat me down at my dining table and walked around so she could rub my shoulders. "_Do you want to relax…?_" she inquired, the suggestion wide open. I didn't answer, but let her continue her massage. It felt amazing. "_You fix computers, yeah? What was wrong with your client's computer?_"

I couldn't identify a few of her words, but pieced together her meaning and stored those words away for later to ask her husband. "_New computer, needed old files and…programs put in…_Ah, that's nice…" Her massaging felt amazing, so much so that I forgot the word for "install." She seemed to understand, though, so everything was fine.

Her hands continued their ministrations while she kept up an almost one-sided conversation. I didn't mind, really. The day was too tiring and she was distracting me from actually thinking about things I didn't want to remember. At least, not at the moment. She was relaxing, calming. Her hands were just small enough that my body didn't react enough to them to get turned on. It was actually a relief. She would have enjoyed that…

Still, she let her hands fall down my chest and past my stomach, which was growling in hunger—I had skipped lunch and it was well past dinner time. They stopped at my waistline and that's when my hands flew up to her arms, pulling them back up. "_I apologize_," I sighed.

"_No, no. I am deeply sorry. Too far too soon, yeah?_" she tried to make a joke out of it, brush it off, and pinched my shoulder. I hoped she didn't think she could get anywhere further with me later on…She decided to change the subject when she heard my stomach growl again. "_I'll make you dinner. Come._" She pulled me up and dragged me out of my apartment and down the small hallway to hers.

It was the same size as mine, with a different layout. It definitely looked more lived-in. Well, they _had_ been living there for quite a few years. Much longer than I had been living next door. I sat at her table and waited for her to prepare some dinner. She didn't talk anymore, since she was busy cooking and seemed to enjoy silence just as much as talking. It was fine with me, considering I reveled in silence most of the time. Well, silence from people, since video games and computers can get pretty noisy.

The quiet filled with only the sounds of pots and pans clanging and foods boiling allowed me to think. Maybe I didn't want to think, though…Maybe I wanted to forget again.

So…I decided to distract myself further by thinking about Naomi. Like, why she came onto other people when she had a husband of her own. The simple answer was power, and I knew it. She had told me that she used to work, but after meeting Raye, and moving to this city, he told her that he was the husband and the breadwinner. Sexist, yeah, I know. She lost part of herself because her husband decided she didn't need it and wanted to control her. So, she decided that since she couldn't work, couldn't hold power over herself, she could hold power over others. She seduced them, played with them like putty in her hands.

It was sort of disturbing. But it made sense. And the worst part? Her husband knew everything. He had witnessed it in action, even, and called her out on it once. And what did they do to solve their marital woes? A wonderful night in bed, heard through the whole building. So glad I wasn't living there yet.

What would I do if my husband—if I ever had one—was purposefully cheating on me? I would probably be so hurt, I'd never want to be with him again. After all, he said he would love me for better or worse, right? So, that meant that he obviously wouldn't love me through whatever he was going through that would make him want to cheat. Then again, why the heck would anybody love me enough to marry me and vow to always love me, till death do us part? I wasn't worth loving. I was just some nerdy guy who wasn't even remotely attractive.

Naomi placed a plate in front of me, with various foods, all very rich. It all smelled so good, I couldn't help but begin to shovel it into my mouth. She explained that she had already eaten, so contented herself by sitting across from me and blathering on like we were old friends—meaning she quickened her speech and I couldn't follow, only picking up a word here or there. It was alright, though, as I had begun to go off into my own world in my head.

Mello hadn't even wanted me, all those years ago.

He'd pushed me away, kicked me out. How could he want someone like me, anyway? And, of course, there was that little fact that he was straight and I was a guy. Or, at least, he thought he was straight and would definitely never change…especially for somebody who walked out of his life without even a goodbye…

And anyway, he had acted completely businesslike earlier; he didn't want to be with me ever again.

Heh, I had finally seen him again, and it was as if we had never known each other. It didn't matter one way or another. Our friendship was long-gone and I bet he wasn't even thinking about me right now like I was thinking about him. He was probably concerned about his "top-secret" work.

Man, I really wished I knew what he was working on that was so secretive, so important.

"—_would you like to go?_" Naomi's voice cut into my rambling thoughts.

"Huh?" I answered back. So intelligent, Matt.

Naomi smiled, knowing I hadn't been paying attention. She repeated, more slowly this time, "_A few of my friends are going out this Friday night to a club. Would you like to go with us? You haven't been out much yet, yeah? You're always in your room or at work. I'm gonna take you out on Friday night!_" She beamed, as if it was a brilliant idea.

I stared at her blankly and just bit off another piece of the bread on my plate. She almost pouted, but instead smirked. I had a feeling I wasn't getting out of this "date" with her and her friends.

She continued to talk again, apparently only concerned that I heard about my new plans for Friday night. I tried to pay attention, if only to keep my mind away from a blond man who had single-handedly taken over my life—hopefully not for a second time. Please not for a second time.

Eventually, when my plate was completely empty and my stomach utterly full, I was able to excuse myself for the night. By the time I made it into my apartment, I heard someone coming up the stairs outside and realized I'd left just in time—Raye was home from work.

I immediately sat on my couch, nursing my swollen belly. I ate way too much. Her food was just too delicious. It hurt to move and I felt extremely nauseated. The worst part was that the reason I felt sick wasn't because of the fullness but because I had trained my body to think that I was always nauseated from eating too much food.

So…I made my way to the bathroom and leaned over my toilet. I felt disgusting as my belt dug into my stomach. I couldn't believe I ate so much; I had no self-control. I was just a fat pig. My middle and pointer fingers entered my mouth and triggered my all-too-familiar gag reflex. The entirety of my dinner exited my body in several waves.

Yeah, it tasted disgusting. And, trust me, I knew the health risks of bulimia and anorexia. Twenty years of eating disorders tends to do that to a person.

Nevertheless, I did vow to myself that I couldn't eat anything for the next few days. If Naomi wanted to take me out for a night on the town, I was going to do it in as sexy of a body as possible…though no body of mine could really be considered sexy…

* * *

_Approximately fifteen years previously_

I had locked myself in the bathroom again. I held onto the toilet tightly; it had become my best friend recently. I had learned that I didn't always have to starve myself. I could eat to my heart's content and just let it all come back out…or go all the way through quickly. But that way was a little worrisome. What if some of the food still digested and went straight to my fat stomach? Or my pudgy hands or flabby arms?

A pounding on the door woke me up from the light nap I had apparently been taking. I was used to that, though. I was always tired, after all. I just thought it came with growing up. After all, adults constantly drank coffee to wake themselves up.

"Matt! You get the fuck out of there! You come out and stop dirtying my toilet, boy!" a man's voice called.

A woman's voice tried to reason through the wooden door, "Matt, honey, you have a problem. I can help you. I know a place that we can take you and they'll take real good care of you."

The man argued with his wife, "We are not sending him there. I am not paying for him to get rid of this _problem_ when all we have to do is force feed him and lock him _out_ of the bathrooms." He kept refusing to believe I actually had a problem. His wife, however, did believe I needed help. _She_, of course, couldn't help me. No, she was willing to send me away, though, just like the rest. Nobody kept me long anymore. I was just that unwanted. I wasn't good enough for them because I wasn't a perfect little son who embraced whatever way they lived. Ha, no, I had "problems."

They just didn't want to deal with me anymore. They were going to get my social worker to take me away again. But the state couldn't afford a private program like the one that foster mother had suggested, so nobody would truly, professionally help me. At least, not for years to come.

Tears had weld up in my eyes that night, and I cried myself to sleep while gripping onto the toilet seat, a drop of vomit against my lip. My foster father eventually found the key to unlock the bathroom door and I found myself in my bed the next morning. I wasn't changed, my mouth tasted _horrible_, and I had a killer headache—the rest of my body ached, too, but I was definitely used to that by then—but my face was clean.

The doorknob was gone from the bathroom door when I went to relieve myself after I woke up.

In less than a week, I was in the back of my social worker's car, being taken to a new family. None of the doors had locks, there were kids everywhere, and I felt completely out of place. What else was new?

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**Author's Notes: Of course, the distribution of flashbacks will not be even. Matty needed more chapter, I didn't want to go onto the next workday, and so you got a nice, self-pitying, bulimic flashback. I'm very sorry, my dear readers. I do not mean to drown you in Matt's eating disorder. In fact, I guarantee that his next flashback will **_**not**_** have these issues. Other issues, yes, but more entertaining ones for you guys.**

**I originally created a wife that kept hitting on Matt and her husband who works and is very friendly to Matt. And then I decided to name them…and realized the one good almost-married couple in Death Note is Naomi Misora and Raye Penber. So…they became the couple. I do not mean to mess with Naomi so much, but I needed to warp her into my own story. I did try to analyze her based on some things I noticed from the series, so I hope that compensated…? I'm also sorry that she was most of the chapter…**

**Also, a big thank you to DIMS, who listened to me ramble about this story without having read any of it ((yet)) and for beginning to speculate plot. Sadly, their plot bunny was not very close to the actual, but it was a good, educated guess. They **_**do**_** know more than you guys, only because they know **_**me**_** more than you guys. But, you'll learn most of it in time. Don't worry.**

**Next chapter, we return to Mello's work. Yes, you will see some of his work! You still will be left mostly in the dark, but that's the point. If you have any requests or ideas, please share! I would love to hear them!**

**So, please review—if you loved it, hated it. And explain why/why not if you have the time. Reviews help me grow as a writer, and that benefits you all! ^-^**


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